


A Simple Waltz

by piginapoketuesday



Series: La Mia Vita Con Te (a Hannigram series) [3]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Dancing, In Character, Kissing, M/M, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Post-Season/Series 03, season 4 opener, the chapel in palermo, waltz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-30
Updated: 2015-09-30
Packaged: 2018-04-24 02:02:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4901287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piginapoketuesday/pseuds/piginapoketuesday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"If only every problem could be solved with a simple waltz." -Alana Bloom</p><p>I wanted to watch them dance, even if it could only be in my mind. I hope this brings the fantasy to life for you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Simple Waltz

In the corner of the room, Will was watching the moon out of the window. The party went on around him, full of chatter, glittering gowns, and food a baker's dozen had died for.

Without warning, Will felt gentle hands on his collar, smoothing it. He turned, his skin already alight with the anticipation of seeing his psychiatrist.

Hannibal's face was calm, with a soft smile that made Will ache in all of his scars. He was wearing a black suit and a silk white undershirt, hair swept out of his face, with cufflinks in the shape of human hearts. "Still that unfortunate aftershave."

"I've begun to wear it simply on the principle that you despise it." He grinned.

Hannibal's hands wandered to Will's blue tie and straightened it deftly. The careful pull of fabric against his throat, and the closeness of his friend sent a blush up Will's neck.

"It's begun to grow on me. Which says nothing of taste."

"You do nothing without regard for taste, Hannibal."

"Then perhaps it's a taste for you that overpowers my senses." A quiet, self-satisfied smile emerged at the corner of his mouth.

Will's face fell in that haunted way that always happened when Hannibal's love was clear. He could feel a phantom tongue, licking at this belly, and teeth at his throat, waiting to tear. Everything about the older man was predatory, and yet, who denies the tiger a kiss? On a creature so beautiful, even a bloody mouth looks handsome in the moonlight.

Hannibal's hands clasped one of Will's in their warmth, reminding him that even the devil can offer a gentle burn. "May I have the pleasure of a dance?"

Will lifted his head, and his voice was a careful loss of balance. "You lead."

The doctor smiled. "I always do. May I?" He held one arm up, hand open, the other arm to the side, fingers steady, chest out, back straight, composed like the first key of a symphony.

Will stepped forward and took his hand, then latched his arm into place with his partner's. It was painful, this closeness, but the moon was out, and the tiger's bloody mouth was smiling for him.

Music filled his chest as Hannibal led him gently into the first step: a tremulous sound that was nothing compared with the heart thrumming in his wrist below Hannibal's fingers. The tiger danced, and the stag in Will bared it's throat and learned to move with him.

The room spun, couples moving like whirling teacups. Dresses fanned, tuxedos flared, and Hannibal's eyes never left Will's.

And suddenly, their shoes found the marble of the empty chapel in Palermo. Never once did their waltz falter, and the music followed them into the dream. Will couldn't breathe. The chapel shone gold, the tiger danced, and the severe face of Christ looked down on them from the ornate dome. His and Hannibal's hands stayed clasped together, their feet moving over the skull engraved in the floor, where the topiary heart had once beat.

The music played it's final chord, and the palace chapel faded back into the crowded ballroom. Hannibal stopped like a figurine in a wound-down music box, and Will stumbled, falling into him.

The tiger smiled. "Perhaps I should have warned you."

Will swallowed and found his footing, straightening his jacket as he stepped back from Hannibal's chest. "Perhaps I should remember to breathe."

"Have I stolen your breath, Will?" Hannibal moved nearer to his patient.

Will smirked bitterly. "It wouldn't be the first time." His scarred belly twitched.

The older man traced his thumb over Will's throat. The stag bristled. "Nor would it be the first time you've stolen mine." Hannibal swallowed, feigning vulnerability, but Will loved each of the masks just as much as the man.

Leaning forward, Will closed the space between their mouths. He dared to touch the slick blonde hair at the back of the tiger's neck.

Hand still playing at Will's throat, Hannibal let himself taste. He drew a breath in, the scent of his lover both offensive and delicious. Consuming him would be ecstasy, but . . . the casual hand in his hair was something more pleasurable than meat, for now. Even so, he bit gently on Will's lower lip before deepening the kiss.

Tonight, even for the stag, the tiger's mouth did not taste like blood.


End file.
